A Tale of Two Assholes
by renee walker
Summary: Scorpius and James sleep together, fall in love, fall out, and make up. In that order. Or: a guide on what not to do when dealing with a crush.


_written for a hogwarts school survival studies assignment. prompt was task #4: write a fic set over the course of three days.__ basically unedited because of my 3 tests on friday, monday and tomorrow that i've been grinding for so very sorry to anybody who reads this._

_not cursed child compliant._

* * *

The thing about James is that, he's _frustrating_. He's frustrating in the way that Scorpius can't figure out the answer to an arithmatic problem set; in the way that he still burns his mother's soup recipe, regardless of how hard he tries; in the way that there's a frigid, startling amount of people with prejudice against Slytherins.

The problem, it begins when they're young. Freshly sorted in Slytherin, Scorpius befriends Al Potter quite fast, draws him into his own friend group of William Nott, Jacqueline Zabini, and Vincent Goyle. He meets Al's brother about a week after the Sorting, when James tells Al that he couldn't care less if he was friends with a _Malfoy. _James didn't care about Scorpius, but he didn't seem to associate the name of Malfoy with anything good, which was a sore spot for Scorpius.

Also - James used to smoke, _used to_ being the key words but. Exactly once, he'd said, _hand me a fag, would you_ to Scorpius, who had stared at him for approximately one whole minute before saying back, _what the fuck, is this some kind of shitty gay joke to you or._

Regardless, he's always reminded Scorpius of that giant portrait of Sirius Black that's hung in the hall of Grimmauld Place. The resemblence is strong. As in, they both appear carelessly expensive, kind of arrogant, and they both exude a kind of Gryffindor energy and charisma. They could be attractive, if they also weren't absolute pricks.

And this, it all matters, because, "So," Al begins, purposely casual. "Is it alright if James stays over too, while you're here? He's visiting me at the same time you are." If he doesn't make a Big Deal of it, maybe his best friend won't think it is. It's really not a Big Deal, James and Scor staying over, but it could be.

Scorpius archs an eyebrow at him, looking not disdainful or disgusted, but curious. "Why doesn't he stay with in London with Lily? Or your parents?"

Al shakes his head. "Lily's doing that semester abroad in Canada, but anyway, she hasn't found a flat for herself yet. Mum's doing some Quidditch thing with the Harpies, and Dad is doing some highly-confidential case with his squad, no details to be released, that sorta thing. They don't trust him alone at home."

He snorts. "I wouldn't think so, after that massive party he threw for his Hogwarts grad."

"Don't remind me," says Al, but he's grinning. "God, I've never feared Dad more in my life." He can still picture the disaster of the house: empty bottles of Firewhiskey everywhere, their chandelier absolutely smashed, all the couch cushions removed, filled condoms left in the garbage cans, and suspicious and gross stains on almost everyone's beds. To top it all off, his dad had found evidence of Pixie Dust and vials of liquid that tested positive for Fairy Wings and Elf Grass in the house. That's when shit had hit the fan. Neither of his parents cared if James drank, he was legal, but they did care if he did drugs.

There's a moment of silence where Scorpius thinks before he says, "Yeah, it'll be fine if James is there. Have you told _him_ that _I'm_ coming?"

Al shrug-nods. "He knows you're coming in tonight. I told him he can fuck off to London if he has a problem with you." Scorpius grins at him, which makes him smile back. "You know I love you most, man. You're basically my brother too."

"Love you too," Scorpius tells him, all warm inside. Al is, without a doubt, family at this point; as much in his blood as his grandmother is. "I'll see you in a little bit, yeah?"

* * *

So, Scorpius Portkeys to Manchester, where he walks out of an alleyway to see Al's nice black Maserti, idling by the sidewalk. They hug and drive to Al's flat and Scorpius settles in and he doesn't see James until he comes breezing in for dinner, dressed in sinfully tight Muggle clothes. He ruffles Al's hair, stealing a bite of the stir-fry noodles and chicken as he sweeps through the kitchen.

"Hey Malfoy," he greets, smiling a little. Their relationship has gotten a little better over the years, it's not like Scorpius could just one hundred percent avoid James whenever he went to Grimmauld Place to visit Al, but it's not great.

Scorpius nods at James in response, giving him a curt, but polite, "Hey." He sets the table as James goes upstairs to - change, maybe, or whatever. Al's brought out some nice wine. It strikes him that even though they're only 23, they've still come so far from just two years ago when they drank shitty wine with takeout pad thai and spring rolls together. Back then, Al was a baby Curse Breaker, struggling in London's competitive scene, and Scorpius was still in training for Dragon Keeping, trying to prove his worth as _Scorpius Malfoy_.

He suspects Al is bracing himself for dinner talk, so Scorpius starts off the conversation with, "How's United doing, James?" Al doesn't look surprised, Slytherin to the core he is, but James looks a little pleasantly startled. "I've heard Gunnar is thinking of trading in Rashford."

James snorts, shaking his head. "Please," he says. "Gunnar loves Rashford. The real trouble is our new Keeper, Dale, he's right terrible."

That catches Al's attention. "I like Dale," he protests. His eyes narrow as his brother opens his mouth. "He's got _potential_."

"He's got a shitty average at saving." Scorpius shrugs at the baleful look Al throws his way. "Sorry mate, it's the truth."

Dinner goes smoothly, and Scorpius is partially wine-drunk and feeling like a _fantastic_ best friend by the end of it. He's riding that high, settling on the couch with another glass of wine, when James sits down too closely beside him.

He suddenly feels a lot more sober. "What the fuck," he says, eyes darting to the stairs of the loft where Al disappeared up to piss. Scorpius doesn't look at James, but he knows the bastard is smiling, he _knows_.

"Come on, Scor. You look good." A hand touches his arm, and he moves it automatically away. James' fingers are cold. They've always been cold.

Scorpius turns to look at him. Merlin, does he good too - those broad shoulders, his fucking _bone structure_, Scorpius wants to die everytime he sees him. "Don't do this. Don't call me Scor," he tells him. He drops his Mask into place. Al calls it his Murderous Bitch Face, James had called it his Emotionless Prick Face.

James just looks at him. "What the hell," he says, "I thought we had, I thought we were cool."

He shakes his head, a bitter feeling rising up his throat. "We're clearly not," is all he gets out, before he hears Al's footsteps and shifts to the end of the couch, as far from James as possible.

Scorpius calls it a night around midnight, claiming tiredness from traveling. He goes to bed with a headache he is wholly blaming on the wine.

* * *

Despite, his minor hangover, Scorpius ends up rising with the sun. Al's flat is a bloody amazing steal - 3 bedrooms, big bay windows, and nicely furnished for so little, it's criminal. It's also in a nice neighbourhood, that, if he remembers correctly, has a nice little sidewalk to run on; a park not too far.

He's just reached the park when he spots James, stretching it out on an open bit where there are no trees. He swan dives down. Scorpius shuts his face down, and turns away to not give into the sweet temptation to ogle that round arse. Unfortunately for him, James somehow takes notice and comes right fucking up to him as he tries to subtly jog back to Al's.

"Still a morning runner?" James asks, keeping pace easily. His top is sleeveless, loose enough that Scorpius can see his muscles stretching into more perfectly sculpted muscles.

Scorpius doesn't even look him in the eye - a trick he'd picked up from the petty Slytherin dorm feuds. "It's not like you stayed long enough in the morning to find out." He feels James drop away, finally getting a hint. He ignores him, continuing on, and tries to run hard enough to make the knot settling in his stomach disappear.

The day gets a little better. They go out shopping, for tea, to Muggle Manchester. James picks up a Louis Vuitton jacket, and Al peers curiously at some Nike sneakers. Scorpius pretends not to notice how James checks him out as he tries on jeans in a store called Topshop.

Wizarding culture has merged with Muggle culture enough to produce cellphones that function fairly well with magic. Al has the latest model, lots of camera room, and fills up his photos with selfies and candids. Scorpius takes some pictures of his own, too. He maybe accidentally takes a picture of James, alone, looking off to the side where Al (out of frame) is standing. James is smiling devastatingly bright, and looks unbearably handsome. His hair is artfully windswept, he's wearing a leather jacket that hugs his frame perfectly, and his jawline and cheekbones could cut glass.

Or, he supposes, break Scorpius' heart.

They go out for dinner, an excellent steak and mash, and Scorpius finds himself increasingly more distracted by James. He can barely stop himself from looking at the way the dim lights reflect off James' honey-gold eyes. His iron-tight grip on his control slips, and he thinks, in a flash of sinking hope, _I can't possibly, there's no way._

"Come on," Al says, as he throws down a couple of bills, "we're going to the club tonight."

* * *

It's a new, swanky club that Al brings them too. They've all changed out of street clothes into proper club clothes. Scorpius' good mood at going out with his best mate is only slightly soured by a fairly tipsy James, who calls up his cousins Louis and Teddy to meet them at the entrance.

Teddy is definitely eye candy, those forearms and his lean body and his fucking cheekbones, and maybe Scorpius has a thing for good bone structure, whatever. They're maybe distantly related, he isn't really sure. Victoire, his girlfriend, has also joined in, nixing the "night out with the lads" plan that James had been going off about. She's gorgeous, of course, in a tiny navy number that Scorpius is fairly sure Jaqueline has.

Al's got an arm slung around his shoulders, but breaks away when Victoire reaches out for him. "Scorpius," she purrs, voice sweet and lovely. She wraps him in her arms. She smells like peaches and he leans back a little to press a light kiss to her cheek, careful not to smudge her perfectly-applied makeup.

"It's been too long, Victoire," he says, pulling away.

Then he sets his eyes on Louis Fucking Weasley. James may be all rogue charm, rough around the edges, handsome in a tradtionally masculine way, but his _cousin_ is straight-up pretty. He's in a sheer white button down, and pants that highlight the curves of his legs. Scorpius greets him in careless French, and is pleased when he gets a reply. He can feel Al looking at him, but he doesn't really care. He knows Al doesn't care if he hooks up with his family, as long as it's not, like, his dad.

"You ready?" Al slides back up to him, throwing an arm over Scorpius' shoulders and pulling him close. He's warm, a little tipsy, smelling vaguely of the vodka they'd pregamed a little with. He's his best friend. Scorpius feels a swell of affection for him, right underneath his ribcage into his goddamn heart, and hugs Al closer.

"Yeah," he says. He turns his head to look at James properly for this first time in hours. Surprisingly, or maybe not, James is looking right at him. "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

"What the _bloody fucking shit,_" Scorpius bites out. He wrenches his arm out of James' grip. He bruises like a peach, he's going to all mottled black and blue tomorrow, but that'll be nothing compared to the dead corpse James will be. "The fuck was that, Potter?" He's dimly aware that his voice has risen, all self control snapping, but they're in some dark, dank alleyway. Where James _dragged him_.

"Don't play fucking stupid," James shouts back. "Merlin's balls, Scor -"

Scorpius narrows his eyes, serving him his closest glare. The one he practiced for hours in the mirror, trying to imitate the look his father gave people who gave him shit for having been a Death Eater. "Don't you fucking _call me that_ -"

"I just don't understand what all this _secrecy_ is about, huh, or why you said we were cool! Then you do _this_?"

"Do _what_, I was trying to have a bloody good time!" It's not like Scorpius didn't know what James is referring to. He'd been dancing with Louis, a little suggestively, but he's had his sights set on the blond Weasley since they arrived. Louis is a good dancer - tasteful, flexible, fluid - in ways _some_ people might not appreciate but Scorpius certainly did.

"You were grinding against my _cousin._" James throws his arms up, looking the most pissed Scorpius has ever seen him. It would be scary, as he's drunk, but so is Scorpius and a Scorpius drunk of top shelf vodka _and_ tequila is not one with any sense of self-preservatiion.

He takes a step closer, wildly angry, too, all of a sudden. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "You don't get to talk," he snaps. "_You_ were the one who broke it off. _You_ were the one who didn't want a real fucking relationship. James Fucking Potter, too good for the Malfoy and his bed, wasn't that it?"

James stares at him for so long, Scorpius turns to leave. Then he's whirled around - too fast, his stomach doesn't like that - but James is right up in front of him, all in his face.

Scorpius squirms, pushing him a little back. "Excuse me? A little personal space."

"Shut the fuck up," James says, pushing back. "I'm trying to see if you're on drugs or something. What'd you take? Fairy Wing? Pixie Dust?"

He's instantly appalled, feeling shockingly sober for a good five seconds. "I didn't take anything," he finally manages to get out. "And what the hell, get off of me, you brute." James, surprisingly, lets go, taking a step back to just _stare_ at him. Scorpius stares back, unimpressed.

Finally, James says, "I didn't stop having sex with you because you're a Malfoy." Scorpius just looks at him, drunk brain not quite comprehending what's going on. James eyes him a little warily, looking considerably more sober. "I just, look, Scorpius. I, fucking, I really fucking liked having sex with you."

"Gee," he says. He's flying on autopilot, a little concerned for his ex-fuck buddy despite his inebrited state. "Thanks, means a lot 3 months later."

James barks out a laugh, then stops, abrupt. It's quiet for a second before he blurts out, "I liked having sex with you and I liked _you_. Like, a lot. I still like you. I just, I didn't think you liked me back, and I didn't want to continue fucking you if you didn't and. Yeah, that's, just the whole reason. I thought, I didn't know you felt that way."

Scorpius has the headache of a century building right behind the eyes, fuck, but his heart is swelling like the Grinch's. If he could hear his heartbeat before, it's nothing compared to the way it suddenly seems to overwhelm him. "You, what?" All his perfectly crafted, witty repetoire has left him. He has nothing but a dry tongue and a strong sense of pining. "I, you thought I what?"

The redhead shakes his head. "Yeah, stupid right? I just, I don't know, man. I tried not to get too close. Al told me not to get too close to you, originally. He said, he thought I'd fall for you or something." He laughs again; runs a hand through his hair.

"I liked you too," Scorpius tells him. Some very small, very sober part of him is utterly horrified. Future Scorpius will be terribly mortified. Drunk, oddly courageous, pining Scorpius doesn't give a single flying shit. "I _like you too_. I thought, we had something. I was going to, I mean, you always _left_."

James gave him an odd look. "Of course I did," he says. He's always been like this, Scorpius marvels, so blunt and settled and wonderful. "You never seemed to want me to stay."

* * *

Scorpius wakes up in the morning in James' arms and Does Not Panic. He's wearing his boxer briefs. _James_ is wearing his boxer briefs. He doesn't feel like anything sexual happened, not physically or intuitively. _I should_, he thinks, and then tells himself to shut the fuck up, go back to sleep, enjoy the warmth.

He's asleep before he realizes, and awake too late to make a grand escape. James is staring right at him. His eyes are sweet and sleep soft; his mouth is parted and inviting.

"Are you going to avoid me?" he asks, blunt as usual.

Scorpius masks his smile with a pointed lift of his brows. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Mate, that's a lot blow." James had always been the one to avoid their friends with benefits situation in public. Scorpius hadn't really cared, still doesn't really. Fucking a selective Quidditch player and arguably Harry Potter's hottest son was never, and is not, going to drag his already semi-tarnished image down any further.

Scorpius simply looks at James until he rolls his eyes and relents.

"I forgot how pushy you are," he mutters, his voice full of good humour. He turns on to his back, stretching languidly.

"It's a good thing that's what you like," drawls Scorpius, even he eyes up how James' many, many muscles ripple.

There's a split second of stillness when James settles before he's moving over Scorpius, lightly pinning him.

"Here's the deal," he grins, "I like you. Not just because you're a good shag, but because you actually have a functioning brain and wicked mouth." His thumb brushes over the crease of his lips, and he nips it a little before pulling it into his mouth. "I want to date you, and sleep with you, and visit you in Bulgaria to see all those dragons you always talk about, and just. It was a mistake to let you go like that."

_Gryffindors and their speeches_, Scorpius thinks, internally sighing. But on the outside, he's smiling, because he can't help it. Merlin, he feels all of 16 years old again, butterflies crowding up his sternum and sunshine flooding his stomach. "Yeah," he says. "It was a mistake, and I should hope that it _doesn't happen again_. And, if it won't, then I suppose I like you too."

James laughs at him. "You're a passive-aggressive shit, why do I like you?" he wonders, even as he leans down until they're nose to nose.

Scorpius leans up to meet him halfway, saying, "Because of my wicked mouth, if I remember right."

* * *

Closer to noon, they drag themselves out of bed. They _are_ there to visit Al afterall. Scorpius has priorities, and Al is very, very high on the list of people he makes room for. James takes longer in the shower than Scorpius, so the blond heads down first.

Al is sitting in the living room with a cup of tea and a copy of _The Quibbler_. He looks up and grins. "Plan worked then?" he asks.

Scorpius gives him a sly smile, sitting down beside him and stealing his mug of tea. "Like a charm, thanks."

"Cheers, mate," he says, clapping him on the back. Then, "you know, I still stand by the fact that if you had just told James you still had feelings for him initially, instead of scheduling your visit like this, you would've gotten the same result."

"Do I look like a Gryffindor to you? I had to make sure he liked me back. I work on margins of error, Potter."

Al rolls his eyes. "You're the worst Slytherin, you're a Hufflepuff in a job that relies on leaps of faith."

Scorpius wraps an arm around Al's shoulders, pulls him close enough that they're both leaning heavily on each other. "Love you too, thanks for helping me bone your brother," he says, sickeningly sweetly.


End file.
